


Clarke Griffin and Repears of Azkaban

by yaraktan



Series: Prophecy of Two Heirs [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, The 100 (TV)
Genre: Boy-Who-Lived, Elemental Magic, Heir of Gryffindor, Heir of Merlin, Master of Death, Natural magic, Prophecy of Two Heirs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-05
Updated: 2017-07-16
Packaged: 2018-11-23 18:42:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11408310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yaraktan/pseuds/yaraktan
Summary: 100 teenage wizards from states are sent to Hogwarts. How will this effect magical Britain? (I truly suck at summaries.)





	1. Magical States

**Prologue**

 

 

Clarke Griffin’s Journal:

August 31, 2141

 

I’m going to share a secret with you. One that has been hidden from the world for nearly four and a half centuries. Magic exists. I’ve been blessed and cursed with this knowledge. 

 

Blessed because Magic is, and always has been, a wonder. Ability to do things that are scientifically improbable at best… is indescribable. 

 

Cursed because knowing the things I can possibly do but being forbidden to feels like a special kind of hell. 

 

International Statute of Secrecy was signed in 1689, and within three years, any form of magic disappeared almost completely from the lives of those without any magic in them. The deal worked wonders for the wizarding community across the globe. Wizards created small societies, villages, towns that were near unreachable to the rest of the world. We started governing ourselves, instead of being governed by those that were unable and unwilling to understand us. 

 

The Statute of Secrecy worked wonders in North America as well. The vast lands now called the United States of America was perfect for young communities of wizards that were learning to adapt to the new world. 

 

Until the assassination of United States President, Abraham Lincoln by a dark wizard that is. John Wilkes Booth, a dark wizard with a god complex. He wanted the wizarding world to stop hiding. He believed it was our birthright to rule over those not lucky enough to perform wonders. It’s tragic that Abraham Lincoln, who fought for equal rights, died because a man believed he was superior to the rest. 

 

Andrew Jackson, the vice president of Lincoln, was elected following the brave man’s death. He shared a similar vision to that of Lincoln. Except about wizarding world. He instituted harsher laws, and punishments. The death of his predecessor in the hands of a magician had pushed him to take what he believed was necessary precautions. It’s more tragic than it is ironic that a man who fought for equal rights was turned into a somewhat bigoted man in face of evil. 

 

By 1870, almost every wizard in the States was forced to move to Nevada, what is publicly known as Area 51. Yes, that one. I have to admit, the government of United States did one hell of a job in blindfolding non-magical people. 

 

In 1947, a young wizard tried to escape Dreamland. His attempt ended with an accident in Roswell, New Mexico, resulting in widespread conspiracy theories regarding aliens and secret experiments. In a witty move, the government fueled these theories to keep the public from finding out the truth, possibly preventing a massacre. After that, it became a habit of the CIA to cover up any accidents regarding magic with ridiculous theories about aliens. 

 

Dreamland. Home. Population: 7.853. 

 

I don’t know if I love or hate Dreamland. The best way to describe it would be to call it purgatory. Dreamland is not the land of the free. Far from it. With the strict rules and harsh punishments set upon us, freedom is a heaven we have not tasted. When Dreamland was first founded, performing any magical act was forbidden. This policy resulted in some of the magical population developing a dark magical force called an Obscurus. A force too destructive to be ever allowed into existence again.

 

When the policy of no magic didn’t work, we were given back our right to perform simplest of magics, though wands and other magical artifacts were still banned. 

 

It’s also not some sort of hellish dystopia. On the contrary, even with the strict rules and limitations set upon us, contentment is not far from reach, especially because we have unlimited access to muggle entertainment. I have to hand it to them, they do know how to entertain. The Usual Suspects is still my favorite movie. 

 

Now that you know the history and now of my world, it’s time to share the reason why I am writing this entry. I get to leave Dreamland. A dream come true, which is funny considering the name. 

 

I will be going to a school in Britain called Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry with 99 other children. To a place where we can find out our capabilities and actually grow as witches and wizards. I intend to make most of it.

 

We will board a ship now that will take us to London. We’ve been told we will be given all the necessary supplies for school, including a wand. Can you believe it? An actual wand! 


	2. Welcome to Hogwarts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The 100 gets sorted, and Clarke meets the infamous HP. A deadly game is explained and a deadlier fate is foretold.

Clarke and 99 other teenagers stood in the entrance hall, chattering excitedly. The most popular subject, well, the only subject discussed really, was the boat ride and the magnificence that is Hogwarts. Clarke and Wells stood in front of the room, quieter than the rest of their peers. They were told to wait there for the headmaster, Harry Potter. 

 

Clarke couldn’t possibly hide her excitement. She was out of Dreamland for the first time in her life. She was in Britain for the first time in her life. She was in Hogwarts for the first time in her life. And most amazingly, she was about to meet fricking Harry Potter. The boy who lived. The old hero who would not die. 

 

She was so deep in her thoughts that she almost missed the old man that was climbing the stairs in slow but sure steps. His eyes were kind and unruly hair gray and short. He looked almost ordinary. Almost. Though his appearance was nothing of note, except the scar on his forehead, his presence was heavy. 

 

The room went quiet, waiting for the man to say or do something. They didn’t have to wait for long.

 

“Welcome to Hogwarts, students. I am Headmaster Potter,” he introduced himself. “Sorting ceremony will begin shortly. The ceremony is a long-held tradition here in Hogwarts. There are four houses amongst which you will be sorted to. The houses are named after the founders. Gryffindor, after Godric Gryffindor. Hufflepuff for Helga Hufflepuff. Ravenclaw, after Rowena Ravenclaw. And Slytherin for Salazar Slytherin.”

 

“You each will put on the Sorting Hat which will decide on the house you will be a member of. Each house has their own characteristics. Gryffindors are known for their bravery, while Hufflepuffs are known for their hard work. Ravenclaws are known for being the smartest and Slytherin are known to be most ambitious.”

 

“You will be living in the dormitories of the house you are assigned to. So, I’m afraid you won’t be staying as a group, but fear not for your house members will become your family members,” he explained. “Now, if you’ll follow me, we’ll begin the sorting ceremony.”

 

With that, the group made their way into the great hall. The great hall was great indeed, furnished with four long tables, one for each house, and one at the end of the hall for teachers. The headmaster led them to the front of the table teachers were seated and left them to take his seat. Only one seat at the table was left empty, presumably belonging to the dark-skinned woman waiting by a stool. On the stool stood a pointed wizard’s hat. “When I say your name, you will sit and wear the sorting hat,” she half explained, half ordered. Mostly ordered.  

 

“Bellamy Blake.”

 

Bellamy, one of the oldest in the hundred moved forward slowly, a little unsurely and sat down on the stool. The professor placed the hat on his head and hat’s mouth -hat’s mouth?- started moving. The hat started talking, though only heard by Bellamy. Oh, this was magic alright. “Gryffindor!” the hat announced loudly and cheers erupted on a table swarming with red and gold. 

 

The boy quickly got up, more confident now, and made his way to the table that cheered, sitting down. “Octavia Blake.”

 

“Gryffindor!”

 

“Finn Collins.”

 

“Hufflepuff!”

 

““Tim Connor.”

 

“Slytherin!”

 

“Monty Green.”

 

“Ravenclaw!”

 

“Clarke Griffin.”

 

Clarke watched the ceremony with a small smile on her face. She enjoyed the camaraderie shown by each of the houses. They welcomed their newest members with cheers and pats. Her smile faltered when her time came. She swallowed nervously. She didn’t move until Wells nudged her forward.

 

“Ah, an heir to the Gryffindor,” the hat spoke as soon as it was put on her. “Bravery is a given. I see you are ambitious as well as cunning. Maybe Slytherin then? 

 

Clarke’s mind was uncharacteristically silent. Like she had no opinions on the matter, which wasn’t so far fetched. She’d be happy to be a Gryffindor but it didn’t really matter to her. She was just excited to get to actually perform magic and not just simple tricks. Her nervousness wasn’t because of the sorting. It was because this was all strange to her.

 

“Smart one, aren’t you? Ravenclaw might be a right fit for you,” the hat commented. “Or Hufflepuff considering the kindness you show to others. Where to put you?”

 

The hat continued to debate for several minutes. It was odd, really. Before Clarke, Finn was the longest to wear it and even then, it took under a minute for it to decide. 

 

“Gryffindor!” the hat exclaimed in the end. 

 

A roar erupted again in Gryffindor table. Clarke made her way to where Bellamy and Octavia were seated. She received a couple of high fives and pats on her back but didn’t converse with anyone. 

 

“I guess that settles it,” Octavia commented.

 

“What?” Clarke asked.

 

“We were discussing if you are really the heir of Gryffindor,” the older Blake answered. 

 

“You could’ve asked me and I would’ve told you,” Clarke shrugged. 

 

“Will do that next time, princess,” Bellamy mock saluted. 

 

“Hufflepuff!”

 

“Please don’t start calling me princess,” Clarke begged.

 

“Princess? Of what?” an unfamiliar voice came. Clarke was about to answer but lost her voice upon realizing the owner of the voice was a ghost of a young boy, around her age. 

 

Octavia was the first to recover from the shock among the group. “Apparently, she’s the great great great great great great great great great…”

 

“Slytherin!”

 

“great great great great great granddaughter of Godric Gryffindor. Give or take couple greats.” 

 

“Merlin’s beard! Here I thought to go to school with the lightning boy over there was cool,” the ghost exclaimed.

 

Clarke rolled her eyes at the ghost. “You know I’m not Godric Gryffindor, right? I’m just related to him,” she said, playing with her wooden ring nervously. 

 

“Ravenclaw!”

 

“Wait, you attended Hogwarts at the same time as Harry Potter?” Bellamy asked excitedly, obviously happy to find a new source of information on the history and the legend of the man.

 

“Yup!” the ghost answered, “he was a wee, little boy then. George and I took him under our wings. Thought him everything he knows.”

 

“George?” Bellamy asked before recognition hitting him. “You are Fred Weasley!” he exclaimed.

 

“I see my reputation extends even across the pond.” 

 

“He’s a history geek,” Octavia answered. 

 

“Geek? Not cool, sis, not cool,” Bellamy playfully glared. 

 

“Gryffindor!”

 

Everyone at the table started clapping and shooting, so the trio joined them as well. 

 

“What was he like? Headmaster Potter, I mean,” Clarke asked

 

“He was this scrawny kid, too kind to be cool. He was one hell of a seeker, I’ll give him that. He loved getting in trouble. He cost Gryffindor so many points that Dumbledore had to keep finding inventive ways to reward points to us. Cool chess move, fifty points.”

 

The trio was listening so intently that none of them noticed the food being served. Or the elderly subject of discussion that stood behind Clarke. 

 

“He played one hell of a chess game, your brother. And I wasn’t scrawny. I was just thinly muscular.”

 

The conversation stopped immediately when they realized their gossip was heard by none other than the headmaster.

 

“Muscular? You? Good one,” the ghost mocked while gliding off.

 

The trio had no such luxury, being unluckily bound by their earthly bodies. 

 

“Miss Griffin, I’d like to talk to you and Mr. Jaha,” the man kindly spoke.

 

Before Clarke could answer, her stomach did, screaming of hunger almost verbally. 

 

“Worry not. I’ll be sure to have elves send food to my office,” he mocked softly.

 

Clarke nodded and stood up. Wells was next to the elderly man, unnoticed upon that moment in the heat of all the excitement and embarrassment. The trio made their way out of the great hall slowly. It took them almost twenty minutes and six flight of crazy stairs to get to the headmaster’s office. It was a testament to the grandness of the castle. 

 

They stopped in front of a gargoyle. The statue moved only after the headmaster spoke the password; “noctis ostium ovium.” 

 

“Open the door of the sheep?” Clarke asked climbing after the man.

 

“After half a century, coming up with passwords becomes difficult,” Harry answered. “You know Latin?”

 

“We weren’t allowed to have wands or any other magical artifacts. I thought learning Latin might help with wandless magic,” Clarke explained.

 

“Did it?” 

 

They made their way inside the minimalistic room. There was a sofa that seemed as comfortable as a sofa could be, an oakwood study table that looked ancient and three simple chairs. The office walls were turned into a library of sorts, filled with hundreds, maybe even more than a thousand books. The walls with no bookshelves were present, were filled with portraits of men and women. 

 

Clarke was trying very hard to seem like she was too taken by the room to answer the question, instead of avoiding it so she wouldn’t admit to breaking a major law back in Dreamland. It didn’t seem like it was working. The headmaster was still watching her intently, waiting for an answer patiently. 

 

In the end, Clarke gave up on her hopes of an easy out. “I really don’t want to admit to rule breaking sir,” she pleaded, to which Harry Potter laughed. 

 

“She sounds like a Potter,” a portrait of a long-black haired man. 

 

Clarke and Wells looked at each other puzzled, feeling like they were missing out on an inside joke.

 

“Thank you, Severus, for your lovely input. And I’m sure you’ve done nothing I haven’t,” Harry smiled at them kindly. “As I’m sure Severus would agree.”

 

Clarke pondered her options. There seemed to be no avoiding an answer, and honestly, she was sure the headmaster would see through any lies she could spin. “Having an artifact with magical powers were banned, and was punishable by death in Dreamland,” Clarke explained. “My ring…”

 

“Yes, it’s something special, isn’t it?” Harry asked. 

 

Before Clarke could answer, food twice of what the three of them could possibly eat appeared on the table as if put there by magic. ‘Oh, of course, it’s put there by magic,’ Clarke reprimanded herself. 

 

“It’s a family heirloom. It allows me to perform certain spells,” Clarke explained. “My father said it belonged to Godric Gryffindor,” taking some of the sweet potatoes to her plate. 

 

“That’s fascinating!” Harry exclaimed. “What are its magical properties?”

 

“I don’t really know. I’ve experimented some but with rules so harsh, I wasn’t able to try much,” Clarke explained between bites. “But according to my father, it enhances the efficiency of elemental magic performed with it. He was always fascinated with magical artifacts.”

 

Harry seemed to contemplate, which terrified Clarke. Idea of losing her ring, the ring her father gave her just before his death… it was unthinkable. 

 

Wells broke the silence that descended on the room. “Sir, if you don’t mind me asking, what did you want to talk to us about?” he asked, giving a nod to Clarke before continuing on his own plate.

 

“Oh, yes. Forgive my rudeness. I find myself distracted more often in my old age. I wanted to discuss something with you. You are not the only additional students that will be joining us this year. Have you heard of Triwizard tournament?” 

 

Wells nodded. “I don’t know much but I know you won it once, sir.” 

 

“Yes, unfortunately,” Harry said with a sigh. “It’s a competition that was first held in the early 13th century between three wizarding schools of Europe. Hogwarts, Beauxbatons Academy of Magic and Durmstrang Institute. One student from each school competes in three missions,” he explained.

 

“These missions are dangerous, even deadly sometimes. I have corresponded with the Minister and both heads of school. We all agreed that it would be unfair to deny you a chance to compete. As you are just starting your education in Hogwarts, we decided to make an exception this time and allow a fourth competitor, that is if any of you wish to compete.” He took a deep breath. “Do you think your friends would want to compete? Or would you?”

 

Both kids thought about it. It seemed unwise to join the tournament, seeing as it’s dangerous and they had no practical knowledge of magic.

 

“I can think of a few names that would love to try their luck,” Clarke said with a huff, thinking of Bellamy. 

 

“Because of the dangers of the tournament, only those older than 16 will be allowed entry.” 

 

For the next thirty minutes, they continued their dinner and discussing the tournament and its rules. They also discussed the school rules and traditions. 

 

They had just convinced the headmaster to tell the tale of his co-championship of the tournament when a knock came from the door. 

 

“Come in.”

 

In came two students, a red-head boy that looked just like the ghost of Fred Weasley, and a brunette so gorgeous that Clarke thought she might as well be a part veela, except she didn’t have a whitish hair.

 

“Miss Woods, Mr. Weasley. Meet Clarke Griffin and Wells Jaha. As head boy and girl, I want you to teach them about school, help them adapt so they can help our newest students adapt,” the headmaster spoke, calmly but firmly. 

 

“Yes, sir,” answered the duo in unison. 

 

“Good. You can start by showing them to their dorms,” he dismissed the students.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Harry was quite pleased by his conversation with the young Americans. Especially the heir. His mind went back to the prophecy. The one he shouldn’t have heard but heard nonetheless. ‘Goddamn prophecies!’ he thought. He didn’t envy the girls, for he knew what being a subject of a prophecy meant. 

 

“ _ Two heirs will meet and three evil will perish…  a master... a queen... an enemy of men....  _ Three evil.” He said, “That’s one more than what I’ve been tasked with.”


	3. Defence Against the Dark Arts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke and Bellamy have their first D.A.D.A lesson. It doesn't go well.

As soon as they left the headmaster’s office, Wells started on asking the redhead question after question.He asked about everything; about life in magical Britain, about Hogwarts and its many rules and customs, about Ravenclaw, of which both were members. 

 

Clarke and the quiet brunette, on the other hand, kept to themselves, mostly. Lexa did tell her about the buddy-system for the newcomers headmaster instituted. Each of the American students had a partner of the same age, or someone close to their age, they would follow around for the rest of the week. It’d help them get a sense of the classes and it’d help them integrate. 

 

Clarke’s buddy was the brunette, Lexa Woods. Wells’ was Donald Weasley, the only Weasley to be sorted into a house other than Gryffindor, apparently. The foursome parted ways upon reaching the stairs to the towers. Lexa led Clarke to the Gryffindor tower, while both Ravenclaws made their way to their own tower. 

 

On their way to the tower, Lexa explained that while she was Slytherin, she had access to other houses’ common rooms. A perk of being the head girl. 

 

Clarke felt that this was as good a time as any to ask the questions that have been swarming in her head about the houses and sorting process. “What are the houses mean? I mean I get the superficial part about brave go to Gryffindor but it all seems a bit too simplistic. A person can be brave and smart, or smart and ambitious. What makes me a Gryffindor and you a Slytherin? The sorting hat seemed to think I would be a good fit to all of the houses. What does that mean?” she blurted out, regretting it immediately after seeing the half-assed smirk on the other girl’s face. “What’s so funny?” she asked.

 

“You were just in headmaster’s office. Why didn’t you ask him?” the brunette asked back. 

 

“It didn’t come up,” Clarke answered with a shrug. 

 

Lexa seemed to analyze the blonde for a second before answering. “You can have the characteristics of multiple houses. I’m not an expert, far from it, but I think we are sorted according to our most dominant characteristics. You may be ambitious and smart but you are first and foremost, brave. I may be hardworking and brave but I am, in essence, ambitious. The rest of my characteristics are shaped by the dominant one,” she explained. “Some believe that the sorting is basically a self-fulfilling prophecy. Because I am Slytherin, everyone will think I am ambitious and at some point, I may start to live up to the expectations. Or because I am sorted into Slytherin, I spend most of my time with ambitious people, so I fit in by becoming ambitious,” Lexa said. “Does that answer your question?”

 

“I think so.”

 

They stopped in front of a painting of a fat woman in pink. “Gummy bear,” Lexa said to the painting and it swung open. “The password for the Gryffindor common room changes bi-weekly. I recommend you remember the passwords or you may spend the night in the hallways which would lose your house points, not to mention uncomfortable,” she said in an amused tone that hinted at a funny memory. 

 

“My first class tomorrow is Defence Against the Dark Arts at nine. I’ll find you at the great hall after breakfast,” Lexa said and left without another word.

 

A slightly annoyed Clarke made her way inside the common room. It was a cozy room, decorated with armchairs. Apparently, comfort was a top priority for Gryffindors. She found Bellamy and Octavia sitting with another Dreamlander and couple of other students. She made her way to them, dropping down next to Octavia.

 

“Hey princess,” Bellamy welcomed her. “What did the headmaster want with you and Wells?”

 

“He wanted to know how much of an ass you really are,” Clarke shot.

 

“Shots fired!” Octavia said with a grin. “Come on big bro, you have to answer or you’ll dishonor the name of Blake.”

 

“I’m not an ass,” Bellamy pouted comically.

 

“Keep calling me princess and I’ll do more than to call you names.”

 

“I smell a duel,” said a boy, clearly younger than both Blakes. 

 

“I don’t think the princess would want her nails to get damaged,” Bellamy mocked.

 

“It’s a good thing I’m not a princess then.”

 

“Shut it, you two. I’m not going to let you fight each other and get all of us expelled before we even step foot in a classroom,” Octavia reprimanded. “Anyway, what did the headmaster really want with you two?”

 

“He said that one of us, the hundred, can join Triwizard tournament as the fourth champion,” Clarke summarized. 

 

“What’s a Triwizard tournament,” the young brunette asked and everyone in the room silenced in unison with shock.

 

“Are we absolutely sure she’s your sister?” asked Clarke to the older of two siblings.

 

“I have my doubts,” Bellamy answered with a grin, earning himself an elbow from the younger girl. He, then, proceeded to explain the tournament with more than necessary historical anecdotes. “Seriously, though, they should start calling it Quadwizard tournament or something. This is the second time in a row a fourth champion will be accepted into it.”

 

“I know. The last one being the headmaster himself,” Clarke agreed. “Anyway, it’s not mandatory or something. It’s up to us. Do you think anyone would want to compete?”

 

“I want to,” Octavia chimed in. “Eternal glory, you say?” she grinned. 

 

“Absolutely not!” Bellamy yelled. “I won’t have you die for a cup. Besides, you haven’t even performed any magic yet.”

 

“I guess that means you won’t join as well?” Clarke asked hopefully.

 

“I did not say that.”

 

“If you are going to put your name in, I will too,” Octavia said, her nose pointed up in a stubborn manner.

 

“There is an age restriction, I’m afraid. You have to be at least sixteen to be able to put your name in,” Clarke said. One had to be obtuse to miss the relieved sag of Bellamy’s shoulders. 

 

“What about you, Clarke?” Bellamy asked. “Out of all of us, you are the only one with a resemblance of experience in magic.”

 

“I thought you weren’t allowed to have wands or perform magic?” a blonde boy around Clarke’s age asked.

 

Octavia was about to open her mouth but stopped halfway when Clarke glared at her, as the one Bellamy missed when he spoke last.

 

“I’ve been known to lose my temperament time to time,” Clarke explained. “Besides, I don’t think the eternal glory thing is really my cup of tea.”

 

“Oh, come on!” Bellamy exclaimed. “We will be the butt of everyone’s jokes here. I don’t know if you noticed but none of us really know much about magic. Even the first years here have two days worth of experience that we don’t have. If you compete and not screw up too much, it’ll help everyone settle in better.” 

 

“I think Bellamy has a point,” Miller pitched in. “I mean I don’t think any Hogwarts student would ever say no to the chance to compete in the tournament. Am I wrong?” he asked a Gryffindor sitting next to him.

 

“Nah. You’d have to be an idiot or a coward to say no. You are Gryffindor, so we know you are not a coward, Griffin,” the girl said pointedly. “That leaves only one option.” 

 

“Are you going to put your name in?” Clarke asked.

 

“Hell yeah, I will. And when I’m the champion of Hogwarts, I will show you what a real witch can do!” 

 

“Come on, Clarke,” Bellamy said. “Are you really going to let her talk to you like that?” he goated. 

 

“Fine. I’ll think about it,” Clarke conceded. “Anyway, I’m off to bed. I’ve got Defence Against the Dark Arts in the morning with Lexa.”

 

“Who’s she?” Bellamy asked.

 

“She’s a Slytherin, and the head girl.”

 

“Yeah, I’d be careful around her if I were you,” the same girl who challenged Clarke warned. “She’s not the most friendly type.”

 

“She seemed nice enough, though a bit quiet,” Clarke commented.

 

“Still, she’s known be creative with her hexes.”

 

“Thanks for the heads-up. Night everyone.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Next morning went in a blur for Clarke. She woke up late. Apparently, all the excitement of the previous day took its toll on her. Before breakfast, all of the hundred were given old wands for them to use until they received personal wands over the weekend. She was only halfway finished with her buttered toast when Lexa whisked her away to the classroom, which in turn put Clarke in a cranky mood. She hated being hungry. 

 

That’s why she was sitting in class, next to Lexa with a frown on her face when the dark-skinned professor from the sorting ceremony walked in with a brisk pace and an equal frown to Clark’s own. All the chatter stopped immediately in the classroom. Apparently, Clarke wasn’t the only one who thought professor Indra (Lexa supplied Clarke with the name) was not one to be trifled with. 

 

“We have new additions to class today. So we will begin by assessing their talents,” the professor said. “Blake, Griffin, on the stage. Quint, Ryder, you as well.”

 

The four students all walked on the stage that was constructed specifically for duels. It was long and narrow. Four students could barely stand side by side.

 

“I will observe your talents in a doubles duel and decide which class you should take. You two will be going against Quint and Ryder,” the professor explained to Clarke and Bellamy. Clarke was about to object when the dark woman continued. “Ready your wands.” 

 

Clarke and Bellamy both took out their wands hurriedly, Clarke’s half attempted objection long forgotten. “You may begin.”

 

Just like that, spells started hurtling towards the two newcomers. They dodged the spells, barely. Bellamy righted himself and mumbled a spell he had read about. A clumsy red light flew towards their opponents. Ryder’s shield was unnecessarily powerful against such a weak spell. Quint immediately sent out another hex, which hit Bellamy in the chest. Clarke was too preoccupied with a flying Bellamy to notice the spell Ryder sent her way. Her wand flew away immediately. Clarke had barely a second to think when another spell hit her in the chest, sending her hurtling on top of Bellamy. 

 

Ryder had stopped attacking while Quint seemed to enjoy himself a bit too much, sending hex after hex, throwing Clarke and Bellamy across the room each time. Clarke felt her left arm break under her weight when she fell backward on top of it. This was the last straw. She was in unbearable pain and she was humiliated beyond what she imagined this day would hold for her. But worst of all, she was hungry. She hated being hungry.

 

“Weaklings. I can’t believe Hogwarts will be teaching the likes of these. I wouldn’t be surprised if most of them are mud-bloods,” Quint snorted, sending another curse Bellamy’s way.

 

It was the last straw, attacking Bellamy while he was already down. Clarke stood up slowly, her left arm uselessly and painfully dangling, her right hand forming a tight fist. She was mad. She wasn’t thinking. That’s why she forgot about her promise to her father. The ring. Her father made her promise to keep it a secret as much as possible. It was a powerful artifact and those had a tendency to attract the worst sort. 

 

She loosened her right hand and whispered “progredi perardio.” She disappeared in a ball of flame and reappeared across the room in the same manner within seconds. “Incarcerous aque!” she screamed. Ryder’s arms and legs were bound by water, making him useless. 

 

Upon neutralizing Ryder, Clarke turned her focus on the asshole he was really after, Quint. “Flangeli defervo,” she yelled and a whip made completely of fire flew towards the asshole, hitting him across his shocked face. Clarke followed her attack by shouting “Animingis patronus”. A Phoenix, made up of fire, materialized in front of Clarke. It was about to attack when a Phoenix, not made up of fire but of flesh and blood, burst through the classroom door and landed in front of Clarke, singing. 

 

Clarke had one kryptonite, her father’s voice. No matter what she was feeling, no matter how lost she was, her father voice was always able to bring her back, calm her down. When Jake Griffin died, Clarke lost a part of herself. The part which could bring sense back to her when she was on the brink of doing something irreparable. 

 

This bird’s singing had the same effect on Clarke as her father’s calming voice. Her erratic breathing slowly turned to a regular one. The fog that was set upon her mind dissolved and the Phoenix she conjured dissipated. She fell, pain in her left arm once again manifesting itself. The Phoenix slowly walked towards her, looking at her pointedly and flying away through the door it came in.

 

The room was in complete silence, no one moving. Bellamy was the first to dare to move. He got up and retrieved Clarke’s temporary wand. He made his way to Clarke, kneeling in front of her. “Are you alright Clarke?” he asked, giving Clarke the wand.

 

Clarke breathed out a small laughter. “I’m hungry.”

 

Bellamy grinned at her. “Rule number one of survival. Never forget to feed the princess.”

 

“Rule number two, don’t call me princess,” Clarke said pointedly.

 

Bellamy’s grin widened. “If only I was smart,  _ princess _ .” He held out a hand to help her

 

The room was filled with loud whispers of gossip and commentary. The professor was by Quint’s side, checking the burn mark on his face. She stood back up, giving Clarke a judging look. “You just lost your house five points with your insults, Mr. Quint. Mr. Ryder, take him to professor Nyko,” she ordered. Ryder tried to get up but found his wrists and ankles bound, stopping him from doing so. Indra glared at Clarke, ordering, nonverbally, her to release him. Clarke immediately did so, looking at Ryder apologetically. “Miss Woods, accompany Mr. Blake and Miss Griffin to the headmaster’s office, please,” the professor ordered.

 

Lexa was next to the American duo immediately, whisking them away as ordered. They were halfway to the headmaster’s office when Lexa finally spoke. “How?” she asked in a low voice.

 

It took Clarke couple of seconds to realize Lexa had spoken. “How what?” she asked back.

 

“How did you apparate? It’s impossible to apparate in Hogwarts grounds,” she explained.

 

“I didn’t know it was impossible so I don’t know,” Clarke answered.

 

Lexa seemed doubtful but didn’t voice it if so, instead choosing to walk silently. They stopped in front of the gargoyle that guarded the headmaster’s office. Lexa spoke the password and they made their way up. She knocked on the door and waited for the headmaster to hail them in.

 

“Miss Woods, miss Griffin. And you would be Mr. Blake, I presume. What do I owe the pleasure to?” Harry asked. 

 

“There was an incident during D.A.D.A class, sir,” Lexa answered. “I believe professor Indra would like to explain it herself,” she said, giving Clarke a sidelong glance. 

 

“We shall wait for her then. Please, have a seat.”

 

Both Bellamy and Lexa sat down. Clarke didn’t. The Phoenix was there, perched on a metal rod. She slowly walked towards the magnificent creature. The bird, in turn, perked up, turning its head sideways as if examining Clarke.

 

“His name is Fawkes. He was a friend to the old headmaster, Dumbledore. Magnificent creature. Saved my life once,” Harry said.

 

“We’ve met,” Clarke commented. “He stopped me from seriously injuring a boy, Quint, I believe his name is.” She rose her hand unsurely and petted the bird gently. “Thank you,” she whispered to the bird who in turn nodded as if saying ‘you are welcome’. 

 

“Ah, I wondered where he disappeared to in a hurry,” the headmaster said after a beat. “And what did Mr. Quint do to deserve your wrath, Miss Griffin, if you don’t mind me asking?” he asked in a gentle voice.

 

“I was hungry,” Clarke said, avoiding to talk about her anger management issues. 

 

Professor Indra walked into the room before anyone can say anything else or comment on Clarke’s apparent dodge. She immediately started explaining what happened during the class.

 

When Indra finally finished talking, Lexa was about to burst out of curiosity. “Sir, I thought apparition was impossible inside school grounds, but Clarke was able to apparate today,” Lexa said. “How is that possible?”

 

The headmaster seemed shocked, to say the least. “It’s not.” He pondered for several moments before speaking again. “ Until this day, only Dumbledore was able to do so and with the help of Fawkes.”

 

“That brings me to my second question, why did Fawkes fly in all of a sudden and calm Clarke down?” the brunette asked. 

 

“Fawkes once belonged to… Well, belong is not the right word here, as no one can really own a Phoenix. They are powerful creatures that can’t be tamed,” Harry said. Fawkes cooed his agreement. “Fawkes is a fiercely loyal bird. I believe he was once loyal to Godric Gryffindor, as he was to Albus Dumbledore. It’s possible that he sensed miss Griffin’s turmoil and choose to help his friend’s heir.”

 

“Is it possible he helped Clarke apparate like what you said happened with Professor Dumbledore?” Indra chimed in. 

 

Before Harry could comment, Clarke answered. “No, it was a spell my father thought me. Travel through fire, he called it. He said it was passed down generation to generation just like my ring.” Clarke said.

 

“That still doesn’t explain how you were able to perform wandless magic,” Indra said, glaring at the blonde.

 

“I didn’t” Clarke answered, taking out her ring and holding it between two fingers. Fawkes seemed extremely interested in the ring, keeping a constant eye on it. She turned to the headmaster and waited for him to say something. She didn’t trust anyone in the room, well, anyone other than Bellamy, and Harry, though, in all honesty, the man’s eyes were screaming trustworthiness. 

 

Harry, on the other hand, did, to a point. “Miss Griffin’s ring. It allows her to perform certain types of magic,” he summarized. “How is the boy, Indra?” 

 

“Professor Nyko believes there was no serious damage. Though he said the burn mark on his face will be hard to heal, maybe even impossible,” Indra answered.

 

“I can help with that. I know a way to help it heal quickly,” assured Clarke. 

 

“Please do, miss Griffin. And please see professor Nyko for your arm, as you should’ve done so before coming here,” Harry gently ordered. “Please come see me after you do so.”

 

“Of course, sir,” Clarke said.

 

“And miss Griffin, ten points to Gryffindor for your performance in the duel,” the headmaster added.

 

“Thank you.”

 

As soon as the door shut, Indra turned her attention back to the headmaster. “Sir, if I may, she’s dangerous, Griffin girl. She wa-”

 

“She’s not dangerous. She was just hungry,” Harry joked, trying to ease the tension, knowing it would have no effect on the stubborn woman.

 

“But sir, you didn’t see how she was,” Lexa pitched in. “I don’t believe she intended to do so but she lost herself. If Fawkes didn’t show up, she might have killed Quint.”

 

Harry thought on it for long seconds. “And may I ask, if she seemed so dangerous, why didn’t you step in, Indra?”

 

Indra ducked her head, apparently ashamed. “I was caught off-guard. She had lost her wand, on top of that, she apparated. I did not expect her to be so… capable.”

 

“Professor, this is a school. We are here to teach these kids how to perform magic and how to control it. You can’t blame a student for losing control of something she has no control over,” Harry spoke kindly. “It’s our job to teach her how to control her emotions and magic and to help her master it. I see good in her, a lot of it. Her talent was forbidden and looked down upon up until now. I expect different from you and from all of us. Is that understood?”

 

“Yes, sir,” Indra said with a nod. 

 

“You are dismissed. Miss Woods, please stay,” Harry ordered and both women did so. “I would like you to send an owl to Mr. Ollivander for me.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Clarke and Bellamy made their way to the hospital wing slowly. Clarke was seriously not in the mood to talk. Bellamy, on the other hand, was. “See, you would do great in Triwizard tournament,” he said.

 

“For fuck’s sake, Bellamy. I almost killed that guy!” bellowed Clarke. “I really don’t want to lose control once again and see if Fawkes is there to calm me down.”

 

“We are in Hogwarts now, Clarke. It’s not like back in Dreamland. You are allowed to do magic. Hell, you just earned ten points for whipping a dude in the face. We’ll find a way to make sure you don’t lose control. Besides, your little freak out is bound to make everyone think twice about messing with any Dreamlanders,” Bellamy joked.

 

“Yeah, I’m glad you are enjoying my little freakout,” Clarke bickered. “I, on the other hand, will not enjoy being treated like the next Voldemort.”

 

“Yeah, and I am Merlin,” Bellamy mocked.

 

They entered the medical silently, hearing the moans coming from Quint. Clarke walked up to the man standing next to him, cursing silently. “Merlin’s beard! Nothing works.”

 

“It’s the result of a very dark curse, sir. There is only one way to heal that burn mark and even that may not work completely,” Clarke said, making the man jump.

 

“And who might you be?” the professor asked.

 

“My name is Clarke Griffin. I’m one of the hundred from Dreamland. I am also the one to do that to him,” Clarke said, her voice too neutral, almost machine-like.

 

“And what curse did you use on this poor boy?”

 

“Poor boy? Really?” Clarke asked. “Anyway, it’s a curse called Whip of Fire. As it is a fire based curse, a water based blessing should be used when brewing a remedy,” Clarke divulged.

 

“Clarke, your arm.” Bellamy pointed out. 

 

“Oh, yes. Professor, I’m afraid I also need your healing skills. My arm was broken by that  _ poor boy _ ,” said Clarke. 

 

“Let’s see.”


End file.
